Hanging Off the Edge of a Cliff

Man, you gotta stop doing that!

What? Pulling up people who are hanging off the edge of a cliff?

Yeah, don't do that.  We'll end up dealing with a ton of people hanging from cliffs.  We won't have any customers. Just people hanging off cliffs.

That's ridiculous, I was just trying to help the guy out.

You're not seeing the big picture here.  If we're nice to people hanging off the edge of a cliff, they'll come back with their friends who are hanging off the edge of a cliff.

But-

Everybody's trying to look cool and hook people up, even people hanging off the edge of a cliff.  Look, if you were a person hanging off the edge of a cliff trying to get some people hanging off the edge of a cliff pussy, wouldn't you tell that edge of a cliff pussy about where she can get pulled up?

First of all, if I was a person hanging off the edge of a cliff, pussy would be the last thing on my mind.  I'd be too worried about the condition of my balls.

When you're hanging off the edge of a cliff, you don't care about your balls.

Anyway, there's nothing we can do to stop people hanging off a cliff from coming here. I mean, they built this shit right by that cliff.  They had to know what they were getting into.  This ain't the Biltmore, yo!

I doubt that cliff was there before they opened the doors here. Or at least it wasn't that high of a cliff.

Man, that same cliff has been here forever. Opening a store on this block is like saying, "Hey! People hanging off the edge of a cliff! Come and ask us for free rope."  Anyway, what else have we got these courtesy ropes for?

They're just gonna end up back on the cliff again anyway.

But they keep the rope, so they can re-use it.

They're just gonna throw the rope out, or lose it when they're like on meth or whatever.  And by the way, you didn't throw him the courtesy rope. You threw him the deluxe rope.  If management starts noticing that the rope inventory is low and I get stuck counting ropes four nights a week, I'm gonna kick your ass.

Man, what you got against people hanging off the edges of cliffs, anyway? People hanging off the edge of a cliff say the funniest shit sometimes, you know?

Blend

Carter kept discreetly turning the volume up using the steering wheel, cursing every ambient, non-anthemic track on the latest M83 album as Jaime used an affected voice to sound strained to speak over the layers of synth. "I don't really like donuts anymore.  Especially not for breakfast." Carter opens the window at a stoplight and says, "I hope you didn't see too much this morning". Jaime takes this moment to light up the third cigarette since they woke up 20 minutes ago.  "We don't have to- I don't like to bring that up right away, for obvious reasons, I guess.  It's all good though, we'll be there in 10 minutes."  They were both fully convinced the other was about to implode under the tension. "It was a good night, great crowd, man."  "I hope I'm not towed." "Nah, the meters are on weekdays."  "Yeah, I guess that's the benefit of having these in shitty neighborhoods."

Carter and Jaime met the previous night at a huge warehouse party.  Carter was with a group of friends who all took one car, and they found a spot just quiet enough to converse, but still near the action.  Carter says, "I hate it when people get drunk at these."  Someone in the group was experiencing their first warehouse party where everyone uses Blend, and they set down their drink sheepishly. "Why? Do they act like assholes?" Carter gestures towards someone apologizing to a few indignant people. "Did you see that?  Someone keeps bumping into people, and they keep getting offended and arguing." "Oh right! Because if someone crashes into you it means they are not attracted to you."  Carter's friend gives the room a once-over.  "I can still see everyone. Does that mean I'm attracted to everybody, like I'm bi? When does it kick in?" "Give it another 15 minutes. You'll know.  Like, every part of someone you're not attracted to will fade and blend in, and the parts that turn you on will be all you see of them.  It'll be like black light, you know? And the sexy parts will glow, everything else will be hard to see.  That's why you gotta move slowly and not get wasted." "If I get drunker, won't more parts of people look sexy?"  They laughed as a group. "That's such a first-timer joke! I'm so glad you came, it gets so serious here."

Jaime was with two friends, and they kept moving from table to table.  "Oh my god, I feel like such a degenerate here.  Why do they host these in such shitty neighborhoods?" Jaime shrugs, distracted, distant.  "Where else are they gonna get the space?"  "They just need to rent out like, a whole night club or something.  I'd totally pay extra.  It'd weed out all the assholes."  Jaime's friends enjoy speaking loudly and derisively about people as they walk by, Jaime knows that you shouldn't go to a Blend party alone.  "And the people who just keep coming here over and over and over... I'm tired of seeing them!" "More like not seeing them..." "Why do people drink at these?  If you are on fucking Blend and you still can't talk to someone, you just need to go back to internet dating."  Jaime takes out a vial. "Will you two stop complaining and let's just take these? I like to take them at the same time so we disappear all at once and none of us are left sitting around.  Like last week." "Aww, but you sure did find us eventually, isn't that right?"

"What if I don't find any parts of you guys attractive?" Carter loves coaching first timers. "Well most people find something attractive about everybody.   But once we start to disappear, it's best to split up." Someone else chimes in, "That's the awesome part! Unlike other group singles events, it like, really forces you to branch away from using your friends for safety.  If you see someone, and they see you, you automatically know there's a connection."  Carter butts back in,  "It beats internet dating. That's why I'm here, anyway." "That's why everyone's here." "And if you don't like someone once you see them the morning after, nobody gets offended!" The first timer grew nervous. "Is that- Does that happen all the time? That sounds shitty. Can't I just tell someone to grab me in certain spots before we leave together? So they know there aren't any deal breakers?"  "No, you just gotta not be a pussy about it." One of the group is growing impatient.  Carter pushes back, "No, shut up, that's not true.  If you like someone and you feel shy about rejection, just ask them on a date. If someone won't accept you for who you are, flaws and all, they're not worth your time." "Yeah, this isn't like, an orgy or something.  There's nothing to be worried about."

"This place is basically an orgy. There's no connecting happening here other than genitals." Jaime can't wait for the dose to take effect and disappear, and has two options: make new friends, or try and relate to these two until the trip starts and direct communication is prohibited unless your friend is clearly making a mistake.  "Definitely for some people.  The true benefit, really the entire purpose of this is that it cuts through so much of the bullshit and awkwardness so you can meet someone and move on to the good stuff." "Yeah, this place is definitely turning into a hookup scene for some people."  "Exactly! You can tell when people are scene because they have their Blend party uniform." "Hah, yes! A few people tell you they like your eyes or your legs or your/ tits or your cock bulge or whatever and you start framing them with your outfits"  "The most definitive one, and maybe I'm the only one who has run into this, is they won't give their name out." "Yeah! Some shit about respecting the collective memory." "It was explained to me that our ownership of memories is a like and that they are really shared and borrowed.  I tried to argue, and they just ask me to prove them wrong." "I always want to tell them off"  "I'm never ready when they approach me!  I've always got a good comeback like, the next day when I'm sitting at my desk."

"OK, 5 more minutes then we separate."  Carter just explained that it's a faux pas to cling to a friend when they're on Blend "So like, does it work with movies?" "I don't know, look at that screen."    "Why doesn't it work on movies?" "Are you thinking about having sex with movies?  I don't know about the brain science behind it or whatever, but it affects that part of your perception."  "I'd have sex with that movie!  Who decides on these?" "Eh, it's a bunch of pretentious art house crap. Nobody comes here to see the movies. If you're talking to someone and they start watching the movies, that means they're not interested." "But I thought that once someone looked at you it meant they were interested." "Yeah, but people change their minds. Look, the Blend doesn't do all the work for you, you have to use your own judgement." Carter scanned the room to plan her escape. "I think I see someone. I'm gonna go for it. Good luck!"

Carter approaches the first coherent series of features and is pleased to see a familiar face says, "Oh hey, I remember you."  The features replied, "I doubt it, I just moved here. But I've been going to Blend parties since the bathrooms at Krush were still gender segregated, if that means anything to you.  Did you go to any parties in the Bay Area scene? Maybe we hooked up there?" "No.  Are you sure? I just... what's your name?" "Let's not do names, you can call me Anonymous.  What are you seeing?" Carter hesitantly proceeded, "Your calves and your hair and your eyes, especially your eyebrows... and most of your torso. I'm sure that we- didn't we?" The anonymous attractive figure replied, "Individual memory is just a puddle next to a river, all we need to do is connect it." "Yeah, you have been going to these for a while." "What's that supposed to mean?"  "'Let's not do names'? Individual memory? River?  You actually read that book."  "'The End of Individuality?" "Yeah, that. Sorry, I just thought that book was rubbish."   "Well pardon my directness, but you've obviously done your share of Blend.  How do you know... what do you hold on to that tells you that you are remembering separate people and not just a shared composite of all the people you, y'know, blend with? And all of their memories?"  "Sorry, I just don't buy that far into this, this is just a hangover-free good time for me."  Anonymous could not see Carter's eyes, but was pretending to stare into them.  "I am an analyst for a major software company that I will not mention out of good taste, and I run my own freelance PR consulting firm. If you're implying that I'm some sort of addict with no life, you've made a mistake." "Well, my name is Carter. Enjoy your night."

Jaime had witnessed this exchange from nearby.  "Was that your first experience with a Blend Buddha?"  Carter was startled.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just approached you like that. Am I here?" "Oh you are definitely there, sorry, I'm just a little shaken.  Definitely not my first, but certainly my best. That felt good, I'm glad someone was there to witness that." Carter's eyes fixed on Jaime as they best could as names were exchanged. "I almost wanted to intervene, but you seemed to be doing just fine." "I almost wish they would just make Blend illegal, that'd get rid of all the... those people." "Yeah, I feel like this is ecstasy for obnoxious yuppies.  I wish there was a way to just filter them out." A few of Carter's and Jaime's friends walk past and say nothing, which is a standard way to approve of a friend's catch.  They both look at the other's group unknowingly.  "People dressed like that might as well just go to a regular night club." "Yeah, I mean if you bare most of your flesh-" "Everybody likes flesh!"  "I guess it makes it OK for them to move around so fast though." "Yeah, like when I really need to get to the bathroom I should just take off all of my clothes." "Yes, you should."

Soon Carter and Jaime are in a corner kissing with equal parts passion and curiosity, both escalating.  Jaime senses the romantic bubble moving carelessly in the proximity of an unseeable spike, so reigns it in with words, "I hate how this encourages people to be so... crass with each other." "Oh I don't know, I think honesty is my favorite part.  You can't say anything to people about their appearance anymore without worrying about hurting someone's feelings.  Now words are a pleasant indulgence." "You have amazing legs." "A very pleasant indulgence" "...and your shoulders... your jaw... and your neck." Carter pushes and pulls Jaime into a certain spot, "I love the way you look at me."  The last kisses recede like melting iced cream. Carter asks, "Did you drive here?" "Yeah, but I don't Blend and drive. Could you imagine living with the guilt of running someone over because they weren't sexy enough?"  They laughed and left and found a cab.

Jaime is considering this moment as the wind howls in Carter's car on the way back to the warehouse after a night of technically proficient and occasionally intimate sex.  "You're completely over the dose, right?  Can you see those ugly kids over there?" Carter was supposed to laugh. "What's up with all these ugly kids? Must be something in the water."  Carter gave a laugh so forced it was borderline hostile. "So what are you up to today?" "Oh, groceries, laundry, balance sheets..." Jaime could feel the pending arrival as Carter went through the errands.  Jaime was sorting a list of possible failures of the past 10 hours. All the questionable moments were traced to a sense of familiarity, of having known Carter for years and being able to say anything.  In the moment, that sense justified bold statements of ennui and references to very specific and obscure feelings.  Was that all just a product of the drug?

Jaime makes a last ditch effort.  "So did you really see the most of me out of everyone here?"  Carter replies as though not listening, "I'm sorry about earlier, you were right. About the 'seeing too much' comment.  You don't want to get all self-referential or whatever right away.  Well anyway, I'll find you on Facebook. You're friends with Max Lang, right?" "I think so." "Cool, you got your keys?" "Yeah totally. Maybe we could go get a drink during the week?" "I'm really busy this week. But maybe I'll see you at the warehouse again?" "Yep, I'm sure I'll see you there."

The Old Roller Coaster

Saturday, August 17th 2013, 4AM

As a matter of fact, I did eventually descend Chair Mountain.  Upon arrival at the anti-summit, full of anti-summites, I consulted my pocket and learned of a great opportunity to ask someone else for a cigarette.  I inquired and was granted one cigarette but it was in the past. Next to me was a vine content to support himself, asking for gesture line drawings of lies about life outside the mountain, just good enough to pass a survey drawing course at CMCC (Chair Mountain Community College). The conversation was very facial, I went through several belts of Mike & Ikes until my new favorite band, "The Old Roller Coaster" played an impromptu set!  Sunned nearly raceless, his romping louted him a home at all times.  He sang my favorite hit tune o' his, "Here's Some Sentimental Bullshit (Whatever You Need to Hear, [Whatever Gets You Through the Night])" and I just about spilled my gazes!  Everybody else was trying to figure out what they were there for, and when I told them it was The Old Roller Coaster, it all made perfect sense, and a violent letterbath ensued.  In the depraved squalor remaining after the show, people were hunting for names.  After a night of finding the next brightest object to follow, the sun ruined the job market.  For riches or worse we escaped, and shuttled on foot to our lair, where we didn't know we had to be insulated from the OWW! Box, which functioned as the SONAR answer to a question we would never ask without it.  I wandered to find the just right distance from the OWW! Box, walking in a nautilus pattern until I realized I am not all that different from The Old Roller Coaster, just trying to find the right distance from the sun.

Documentarian

Rain was visiting old friends at a spot that, if you were keeping track, was the place to be from 8:30PM till around 10, at which point the people to be had branched away from tapas and $15 drinks and into their chosen industry, whether it was designer chemicals, performance art, combative fornication, or professional-grade sleep, the type that people announce via social media like it were a Kickstarter campaign. Nobody with a life cares about basil-infusion after 10PM.  It was 9:15 when Rain arrived; she and her friends have never been here, but her friends brought along a tour guide named Brent, who was anxious to meet Rain.  You could hear every conversation in the room, but not understand a single word anybody was saying.  It seemed designed to allow you to speak and feel like you were heard, and listen the same way people listen at karaoke.  They catch the headline like a song title then return to their own internal dialogue until it’s their turn to sing.

Rain was visiting old friends at a trendy spot in LA, when it occurred to her how much time had gone by since they had spoken.  She walks in and thinks about the past 5 months.  Same job, same apartment, same wardrobe… as she approaches the table and notices a carefully groomed stranger talking to her friends, his messenger bag precariously draped over the round back of his chair, his eyes wandering to meet hers as they have been scheduled to, she realizes “Right! Boyfriend.”  Or rather, committed relationship at least; they haven’t really discussed titles.

Brent has a parlor trick where he can take any subject and segue to his effective panty dropper line of “I am an indie documentarian”, in 5 sentences or less.  Rain has read the same book of parlor tricks, so she replies, “So, please forgive my ignorance, what makes you an indie documentarian… are there corporate documentarians?” Just as Rain’s curt dismissal caused Brent’s scarcely contained rape fantasy to surface, the waiter approached the table and announced, “I’m sorry everybody, but the excessive narration of this story has sucked all of the oxygen from this room.  Please put on these masks or you will die.”  Nobody could talk for the rest of the night, so they survived. The end.

Thought Bubbles

Inspired by a conversation I sorta overheard and chose to misinterpret the hell out of. Imagine a guy looking at his Facebook newsfeed. These are his thoughts and actions. It helps to ignore the annotations on the first read, then read the whole thing.


Trish is so hot. Click Trish's profile. (I)
Look at how hot she is. View pics. (II)
Is she single? (III)
Nope.
Does she still date the same bland semi-intellectual versions of Dane Cook like she did in college? Click profile of guy she's "in a relationship" with.(IV)
Looks like it. Am I superior to him in the context of my own value system? Click self profile.(V)
Yep. (VI)
I'm so hot. (VII)


(I)Trish and I used to have fun together. I should consider getting back in touch with her. Why did we never date? (A)
(II)What has she been up to? I will be more easily able to determine this by looking at her pictures than by reading her wall because the pictures cover a greater span of time than her day-to-day postings.
(III)Is she settling down?(B)
(IV)I wonder if he is like Brent. He was kinda annoying. (C)
(V)I wonder what she would see if she were to look at my profile. What would she think?(D)
(VI)I'm sure he's a great guy.
(VII)I lead a good life.


(A)Or whatever. I can have attractive female friends without any hidden sexual agenda. That's why I'm awesome. (i)
(B)Not that being "in a relationship" means you are "settling down".(ii)
(C)We had a decent conversation about The New Pornographers. Or was it The Coldwar Kids? I can't tell the difference.(iii)
(D)That is an innocently charming and not at all creepy thought to have, right? A refreshingly new mode of self-evaluation! (iv)

(i)That doesn't really make me awesome. If I am capable of it, anybody is because people are by default decent and moral and I am glad to be alive among them.
(ii)Not that there's anything wrong with settling down. After all, what else are we here for?(a)
(iii)I just need to listen to more indie music. Then I'll be able to appreciate the nuances that differentiate the artists and bands.
(iv)Not that I care. I'm totally free to think whatever I want to think!

(a)There are plenty of other reasons we could be here, breeding isn't necessarily the only goal of life. (1)


(1)Not that this is a rationalization of my being single, which is a choice I have made on my own in the unbiased realm of my mind, and not because I want to rebel against society or because I lack other options.

Unexpected Congregation of Bullies from 1992 in Your Living Room

The following scene takes place in Brad's living room in his downtown apartment at 2:30 AM, as he walks out of the bathroom.

Brad: "Wait... what? Who are you guys? How did you get in here?"

"Hey, Braddie-Paddie! We're high-school bullies from 1992, and we came in through your TV. You left the CW on."

Brad: "Oh. Well what do you want?"

"Dude, we totally heard you jerking off in there."

Brad: "Well I'm sorry you had to listen to that. Must've been nasty."

"Well we're sorry you gotta date Rosie Palm and her 5 friends cause you can't get a real girl! We recorded it and we're gonna pass the tape around to all the chicks!"

Brad: "Wait, hold on... you stood out there listening to me jerk off? The whole time? That's a little weird. I mean, I took a dump afterwards, did you listen to and record that, too?"

"What? No, don't try to turn this around, you're the weirdo who yanks his canker!"

Brad: "Are you saying that you don't?"

"Umm, No!"

Brad: "Well if you don't that's cool I guess... what do you have against it?"

"Uhhh, nothing really..."

Brad: "This is backfiring on you, isn't it? Just so you know it is understood and widely accepted nowadays that everybody masturbates sometimes and it's not a big deal. It also doesn't mean you are dateless. Many guys get laid and take care of themselves on the side, whether it is to help control their endurance or because they just have to supplement themselves because their partner isn't as active as they are. Either way, it's discussed pretty openly and with little to no judgement, unlike the way it was in movies from 1992."

"Really? I guess that's cool..."

Brad: "What do you mean you 'guess it's cool'? Of course it's cool! It's another victory for freedom and tolerance."

"I mean, that's great for mankind on paper... but don't you miss making fun of people for pulling their pork? Even if it's a little umm... uh, hypocritical?"

Brad: "If we're going to have this conversation, please stop using different colourful terms for it, it isn't that funny anymore."

"See that's what I mean... back in the less 'enlightened' time we could jerk off and also make fun of people for doing it and everyone would laugh."

Brad: "Ah come on, it was inevitable that the jokes would get old."

"See, when you say a joke 'Got old', there is really a lot more going on. What you're saying is that society has become too jaded, or as you say 'tolerant' to laugh at a straightforward wack-off joke, and that is scary."

Brad: "Why is that scary?"

"Dude! Don't you see how the concept of infinite tolerance could be manipulated into propaganda to promote communal anarchy?"

Brad: "So? What's wrong with people being completely trusting of and reliant upon each other without the need for supervision?"

"Umm, the fact that not everybody is honest? It is pure scholarly wistful thinking that could never be practiced, bro."

Brad: "Well we won't find out if it could work until we enlighten people like you guys who would rather make fun of people jerking off than try to improve civilization."

"See, I think you need sticks in the mud like us to protect you from yourself. Any anarchist society would fall into mob rule, and the only people with power will be the largest and strongest or the most organized. Where does that leave malnourished Bukowski-reading pork-pullers like yourself?"

Brad: "I would adapt."

"Adapt?"

Brad: "Yes, adapt. Any shift towards anarchy would be gradual, giving me all the time I need."

"Dude, society is a pile of dead and brittle leaves and acts of revolution are matches; and you can't just burn the individual leaves you choose to and expect to know the outcome."

Brad: "Oh what was that? You totally had that planned!"

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

Brad: "You engineered this whole conversation just to get onto this topic and use that line about the leaves and matches. Fuck! Can't I masturbate just once without this bullshit?"